


Is It the Right Time for the Game We Play

by pennysparkle



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Accomplice Ending, Angst, Crossdressing, Dubious Consent, Gunplay, Humiliation, M/M, Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 13:45:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4394207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennysparkle/pseuds/pennysparkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To see him standing there in the doorway of Souji's house is unsettling, especially when he looks almost exactly the same as he did six months ago. The same dopey grin that had once won him over, that had lied to him for an entire year, the same suit and tie and horribly mismatched shoes, the same haircut-gone-wrong style on his head. And still, a part of his heart leaps from seeing Adachi. He hates that it does, but it does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is It the Right Time for the Game We Play

**Author's Note:**

> for [lurks-beneath](http://lurks-beneath.tumblr.com)!

The last series of text messages Souji had received from Yosuke was about half a month ago, an excited barrage informing him that Yosuke's dad had to go to headquarters in Tokyo for something, and that Yosuke would be coming with him, which meant that he and Souji could meet up—as if Souji had given any indication since coming back that he would  _want_ to see any of them.

Somehow, Yosuke had even gotten his address (probably from Dojima) and had hounded the door like nobody's business. It's just lucky that Souji's parents really aren't ever home. He had camped out in the soothing darkness of his bedroom and ignored the constant ringing of the doorbell until it finally came to a stop two days later, and he could once again go back to being alone.

It would have been better if Yosuke had stayed in Inaba. He probably has a lot of mess to clean up, which  _Souji_ had left behind, and all because of...

His phone rings. It's not any of the Investigation Team or his former classmates. It's a name that used to thrill him to see, only now, it brings a tinge of bile to his throat and makes his body go all tense.

He answers, because he has to. That had been the agreement. "Hello?"

The voice that comes through feels sinister somehow; maybe that's just because Souji knows what he's up to. "Are you alone?"

' _In what sense of the word?_ ' he almost asks. In that he had to pretend he hated his friends to get them off his back, and even  _still_ they don't want to leave him alone? In that he feels so guilty every day for what he's done that some nights he stays up shaking and trying not to cry himself to sleep?

Souji knows what he really means though, and furthermore, he knows that Adachi doesn't care that he feels isolated, remorseful,  _guilty_. Maybe not even that—maybe he just finds  _pleasure_ in the fact that such is the case.

"I'm alone," he confirms.

"That's great!" says Adachi, sounding cheery and bright, like it genuinely  _is_ great. "Hey, you're at home, right?"

"... Yes," he says, feeling a measure more hesitant. Whatever it is that Adachi is after, it's bound to be bad.

"Great! I'm in Tokyo too. So that means you can come meet me."

Souji's heart sinks. Adachi hasn't asked to meet him just yet; it's always been things over the phone or text, things that would mean Adachi never has to hear him or see him for long. But to have to go out and meet him somewhere? That's an idea that's already got dread coiling inside Souji's stomach.

"Souji-kun? You didn't hang up on me, did you? You better not have!" Even as cheerful as he sounds, there's an underlying edge of something  _off_ that has Souji closing his eyes and trying not to start crying. That's weak. He doesn't  _deserve_ to be weak anymore—even if he was trying so hard before, he knows what he's gotten himself into. And now he has to deal with the consequences, no matter how much they're destroying him day by day.

"I'm here," he says.

"Heeeh... That's good, then. So I'll come pick you up. You can be ready by seven, can't you? And wear something cute for me. It's no fun to look at you when you're wearing the usual stuff."

Souji forces down a sigh. If Adachi knows he's feeling put-upon, he's just going to make Souji do something worse. So he doesn't fight it. "Okay."

"You gave in that easy...? Huh. Oh well! Bye!"

With that, he hangs up. And Souji resists the urge to throw his phone at the wall, because that's not going to solve anything either. He just rubs his hands over his face and gets up.

Adachi used to ask for this specifically sometimes. It's a little weird doing it for him, but Souji does it anyway—pulls out the familiar old wig that had somehow ended up packed with his luggage to bring back to Tokyo. There's makeup and a few outfits too, things that Adachi had bought for him, and at the time, it had seemed a little fun and exciting how into it he was.

But they're just bad reminders now, enough that he hesitates once he's out of the shower to pull on a pair of white stockings. And as he slips the panties—pink and lacy—up his legs and layers a bouncy floral skirt that stops at mid-thigh on top of that, he has to wonder if it's going to make a difference to how the night ends. It's a silly thing to wonder; an encounter like this almost definitely guarantees sex, but still...

He puts on a peachy blouse and sits down to do the quick round of makeup he'd learned for occasions such as this. Then the wig goes on, and he remains sitting. He's almost afraid to see what he looks like, knowing that it had once been a point of pride and comfort how natural he looked. How cute.

It takes a few deep breaths for him to finally force himself to look at the full-length mirror. And he  _does_ look cute. But there's something about him that looks drawn-in, uncomfortable,  _off_. Maybe he's the only one that can see it. It never used to be there before. He turns away, unnerved by the sight of himself.

Because time manages to slip away from him easily these days, everything blurs together until it feels like he's just dragging himself through life. Moments are dotted with school, his parents getting home, or his old friends trying to make contact—only for him to tell them to go away, leave him alone, he doesn't  _care_ about them anymore. And he doesn't want  _them_ to care about him either.

He doesn't know how long he sits on his bed, staring at the wall. But the doorbell rings and he jumps, standing almost without thinking and rushing to answer it. It'd be better if he didn't keep Adachi waiting.

To see him standing there in the doorway of Souji's house is unsettling, especially when he looks almost exactly the same as he did six months ago. The same dopey grin that had once won him over, that had  _lied_ to him for an entire year, the same suit and tie and horribly mismatched shoes, the same haircut-gone-wrong style on his head. And still, a part of his heart leaps from seeing Adachi. He  _hates_ that it does, but it  _does_.

He's smiling at Souji, even though he's standing there with his hand on the doorknob, saying and doing nothing. "Don't be rude, Souji-kun... You should invite me in!"

Souji holds his breath as he steps back and holds the door wider. "Please come inside, Adachi-san," he says—somehow managing to hold his voice monotonous instead of letting it shake with nerves.

Adachi does so, looking around. He's obviously impressed, not that Souji cares if he is or not. His parents pay for all of this and they don't even  _use_ it. There's a cleaner that comes in while Souji is at school, and sometimes, the neighbors take pity on him and bring him meals even though he mostly cooks for himself, or else orders takeout when he's too tired to go to the store. But the most permanent inhabitant that this house has ever had is  _him_.

"Nice place. Guess your parents can afford this kind of shit, though."

Souji remains silent, eyes shifting to the side. Let him get it out of his system.

"You look pretty cute, y'know?" Adachi says, crowding him into the wall suddenly. It seems like that'd be difficult when Souji's got a couple inches and a decent amount of mass on him, but he manages it. "You always  _were_ the kind of girl I'd want to take home to my mom. In different circumstances."

As if that was a joke, he laughs. Souji doesn't.

"Don't be so quiet... you'll hurt my feelings." Now he's pouting mockingly at Souji, drawing his hand up the outside of his thigh and thumbing at the edge of his stockings. "You want to be nice to me... don't you?"

When he leans in, Souji can feel something hard pressing against his stomach. He can tell what the outline of it is, and his lids flutter in fear, a short breath escaping him.

"You want to have  _fun_ together, right?" Adachi asks, and his voice is low and ominous enough that Souji nods. He reaches into his jacket, pulls out the gun that had been pressing into Souji's stomach, and drags it up the curve of Souji's hip, pushing it up under his blouse so that he can feel the cold metal biting against his skin.

From where he's standing, this doesn't sound anything like fun, but he's fairly sure he doesn't have much of a choice.

"Why don't you show me your room, Souji-kun?" he asks, and Souji jerkily nods again, leading him down the hallway and through the door he'd left ajar.

It's tidy; there's not a lot of clutter here, unlike his room in Inaba. The bed is neatly made, the surfaces are dust-free, but there's nothing to really show  _who_ the room belongs to. He supposes that's really what it comes down to. Here in Tokyo, in this house that he's spent so much of his life in, there's nothing to suggest he exists. All of the parts that made him special, he'd left in Inaba.

Adachi takes a seat on the bed, looking around boredly. "That's a pretty big TV," he says, and it sounds a little like a threat to Souji's ears. But that won't work here... most likely. He hopes.

And he doesn't want to have to deal with this awkward small talk anymore. He just wants to get this over with, so he steps forward and settles in Adachi's lap, knees pressed to either side of his thighs.

"Ohh? You're that eager?" Adachi asks, running his hand up Souji's side, tracing the path his gun had taken. "It  _has_ been a while, hasn't it."

Souji knows. Between the last time he and Adachi had sex, he'd gone back to Tokyo under the cloud of knowing he'd been an accomplice to multiple murders, had yelled and screamed at his friends and told them all to just  _leave him alone_ , turned 18, received numerous phone calls that ended with Adachi breathing heavily in his ear and detailing all the things he wanted to do to him, had no less than three breakdowns, countless panic attacks, threw up at the dinner table in front of his parents at the remembrance of what he had  _allowed_ —and those are really only the highlights. He  _knows_ how long it's been.

But what he says is, "Yes. What do you want me to do?"

"You're always so obedient," Adachi laughs, curving his hand around Souji's ass and squeezing the flesh in his palm. "You can suck me off, can't you?"

He doesn't answer that, but goes ahead and gets to his knees so that he can unzip Adachi's pants. The outline of his cock makes a jolt of embarrassed arousal shoot through himself; the fact that part of him still wants this  _disgusts_ him, but he leans down and nuzzles his lips against it, because that's what Adachi wants.

"See? You're still so good at this. Have you been sucking guys off while I was away, huh? You wouldn't do that to me, would you? You know you're mine."

He feels his cheeks burn with humiliation. Why  _should_ he still be Adachi's, even after all this time? Why should he be chained to him...? Because of those threats? Because he's afraid?

Because he knows it's what he deserves. What he'd done isn't something that can ever be forgiven, and in place of what had seemed like too harsh of a punishment to allow on someone he loved, now he's been imprisoned in Adachi's place. It might only be a metaphor, but that's what it feels like. Only by Adachi's mercy is he allowed any of his freedoms.

So he dips his fingers under the band of Adachi's pants and underwear, pulls them down and lets his cock, half-hard, spring free. It all comes flooding back to him, how this  _used_ to be, and his hand curls around the base, holding it in place as his tongue presses to the tip.

"C'mon, that's it," Adachi mutters, pushing his hips up and nudging deeper onto Souji's tongue. He coughs momentarily before gathering himself and working his mouth down.

After all this time, he's not particularly used to the actual physical act of this; it feels like Adachi's too big to fit, but he  _knows_ he's not—Souji's taken this with ease before, and it used to be almost a point of pride. So he makes himself keep going, even when it feels uncomfortable and his eyes are a little bit blurry from tears.

"Geez... you look so pitiful, it's kinda cute. You can take it all, can't you? You used to  _love_  that; why don't you try it?"

Souji takes the next few inches, swallowing hard as he feels Adachi push into his throat. He's trying desperately not to gag, and then he feels the cold touch of metal on his skin again, this time on his collarbone between the flaps of his blouse.

"Are you really doing your best...?" Adachi asks, lightly threatening. The gun slips upward, tracing his frantically swallowing throat and then the curve of his jaw and his ear, coming to rest at the side of his skull. "Souji-kun, I bet you're actually really excited right now. Aren't you?"

He's hard. He knows he is. But that really means  _nothing_ to him right now, fear and adrenaline coursing through his veins as he moves his mouth over Adachi's cock, drool dripping down his chin from how sloppy he's being. Logically he knows Adachi won't pull the trigger; he's too much of a coward for that. But it doesn't stop him from sucking at him, bobbing his head without allowing himself up for breath until he's panting and his eyes are unfocused.

Adachi grabs him by the braids, pulling him back with a hiss. "I didn't know you wanted it  _that_ bad, Souji-kun... If I'd known you were so lonely here, I'd have thought to come visit sooner! But don't worry. I'll make sure to come and see you more often after this."

It's pretty much guaranteed that he knows Souji's thoughts on that, but when has he ever cared before? He just smiles at Souji and puts the gun down, tugs him to sit in his lap again.

"Now... you want me to fuck you, don't you?"

Souji nods, ashamed to even look Adachi in the eye. It's just easier this way, to give in without a fuss, to act all embarrassed, and he's still thinking about how it felt to have the gun pressing against his skull.

"Should I ride you, Adachi-san?" he asks, inching his skirt up and pulling his panties to the side preemptively.

"Hm... yeah. I wanna see you work really hard for me!"

Souji had taken the time to prepare himself beforehand, knowing he likely wouldn't end up lucky enough to have Adachi bothering on his behalf. He settles over his cock, fingertips holding him up as Souji begins to sink down.

The first time they'd done this, Adachi had encouraged him to keep going, told him that he could do it, and at the time he seemed so  _tender_. But now he's silent aside from a few moans as Souji settles in his lap, his cock stretching him more than he can really handle after all this time.

"You'd better hurry up... don't keep me waiting," Adachi warns, his hands already settling on Souji's hips to squeeze them in his grip.

Souji nods and lifts himself up with shaky, coltish legs, then sinks back down with an abruptness that leaves him breathless, brows drawn together in a measure of discomfort. Within a couple minutes he's got a rhythm, bouncing himself in Adachi's lap as he groans underneath him. His body has begun to accommodate this intrusion like it used to, and he remembers when he delighted in the way Adachi forced his body to open up for him in an almost selfish manner.

And it  _does_ still feel good. He's ashamed, flushed as his cock twitches underneath the cover of his skirt—and he supposes he should feel lucky for that, because at least Adachi can't torture him for it.

"Geez... look how cute you are. You're just as slutty as you used to be! Are you gonna come soon just from me being all mean to you?" Adachi gets out.

"Adachi-san... it's—I can't take it," he breathes back, fingers tightening on his shoulders painfully.

"You can too. You're twitching around me, so it's gotta feel good, right?"

He bites his lip. His face feels hot, his body is reacting all too happily to this, and as much as he really wants it to be over, he knows that's pointless to hope for. Adachi's going to do this to him and he's going to take it, and when it's all over he's got no doubts Adachi will want a second round.

But all he can think about for right now is the fact that it still feels good, even when Adachi is torturing him. He should have known better than to think he'd ever be out from under his thumb, because this is proof enough that he belongs to Adachi—that no matter how long he goes without seeing him, he's  _always_ going to react like this, drawn painfully toward him.

"See?" Adachi asks, lifting Souji's skirt so that he can see his cock between his thighs, dripping with precome and hard enough that there's a physical ache in him. Souji isn't even  _worried_ about not being able to come at the end of this, because he knows, no matter how embarrassing and shameful he finds it, he  _is_ going to. "Look how desperate you are. You've always been this way for me. Haven't you?"

Souji nods fervently. He hates it, but he's rocking himself in Adachi's lap, grinding down and trying to get him deeper with each movement,  _needing_ to have him—needing to know that no matter how disgusted Adachi is by him, and how disgusted  _he_ is by  _Adachi_ , that this is where he belongs now.

"You want me to come in you?" Adachi asks. Souji nods again, and Adachi's hand tightens on his waist, pushing him down hard and fast in his lap until Souji's panting. And then his grip becomes so severe it's bruising, coming inside of him with a groan. There's plenty of it—enough for Souji to know that he probably hasn't been messing around with anybody regularly, and for some reason, that pleases him.

After that, he doesn't take long to make himself come on his own, no attention or help from Adachi, but he makes sure to spill over the rumpled white button-up Adachi always wears as a form of revenge.

Then he sinks to the side, eyes closing and his arm lifting to cover them. At least for a few more minutes, he can ignore the reality and the horrifying weight of this situation, because until the day that one or the other of them is dead, he's going to have to keep on going.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr!](http://bunansa.tumblr.com)


End file.
